CHAPTER ONE
Madrid, Spain
Somewhere Near the Waterfront
“Are you sure that they’re
dead, Morgan?”
The speaker was a man who moved
more like a wonderfully crafted mechanical mechanism than a human being. The precision with which his body performed
made hard men wary and easy women wonder about the possibilities. He looked at his subordinate with pewter
gray eyes that were unnerving with the intelligence radiating from them. His thick, wavy brown hair was cut in a
severe military cut so precise it hurt to look at while his high forehead lent
him a scholarly, intellectual air. Of
average height he boasted an athletic build that hadn’t been earned in high
priced gymnasiums or health clubs.
Morgan nodded slowly. “I saw to it myself, sir. There’s no connection here in Madrid
to any of your operations.”
“Except for Carl here.” The gray-eyed man pointed at the third man in
the room. Carl’s bald head gleamed in
the bright lights of the room. The
amount of sweat pouring off of him would have been comical if the situation
hadn’t been so serious. He’d been
brought here to die and he full well knew it.
Carl was tied securely to a plain wooden chair and gagged with a simple
rag stuffed in his mouth.
Morgan stood ramrod firm at
attention, his back straight, arms held rigidly at his side. “Might I suggest that we see to leaving this
part of the world immediately, sir?
There’s going to be holy hell when the operation jumps off and even
though your tracks are covered, there’s going to be considerable beating of the
grass to rouse the snakes.”
The other man smiled and walked
over to a kidney shaped mahogany desk.
“Meaning us, eh? But you’re
right, Morgan. There’s no sense in us
hanging around. We’ve done well. I just need to wipe these computers-“he waved
a hand at several computers occupying the space on top of a round wooden
table. “-and we can go. Is the boat ready?”
“With your permission, sir, I’ll
see to it right away.”
“By all means. And send in Johnny. I’ll need him to carry some personal items to
the boat for me.”
“Very good, sir.” Morgan saluted smartly and left the well-lit
room by means of a large round iron bound wooden door, one of several in the
room. And it was not the only door as
well. There was four that could be seen
but there were two others that were well hidden and kept secret from even the
faithful Morgan. The room could have
belonged to an English country squire or a writer of serious, scholarly
tomes. Light flooded in through the
stained glass dome in the ceiling. A
fifteen foot tall chandelier with cream colored metal leaves blooming into
ornate candelabras was the magnificent showpiece of the room and the only rival
in its beauty was a delicate looking giant Chinese Chippendale aviary.
The gray-eyed man slowly opened a
drawer of the desk. He withdrew a
Glock-17 and casually screwed on a silencer while softly whistling “Spanish
Harlem”. He walked over to where the
profusely perspiring Carl sat. With his
black suit, shoes, white shirt and blood red tie, the gray-eyed man resembled
nothing else but an executioner come to do his duty. He stopped right in front of Carl, whose eyes
appeared to be on the verge of bursting from the sockets. He trembled all over as if he were about to
have a grand mal seizure.
“You must understand that there is
nothing personal in this, Carl. In fact,
you performed your duties admirably well and I dearly wish that I could
continue to make use of your services.
However, you have been identified by the authorities. That makes you a liability. I can’t take you with me because there would
be the chance you would be recognized by the law enforcement agents of another
country and they would be on you in no time at all. I can’t allow that. And I can’t leave you here alive because you
may discover a morsel of honesty somewhere inside your otherwise corrupted
heart and nurture it enough to tell the authorities everything you know. Therefore-“The gray-eyed man placed the
muzzle of the gun against Carl’s forehead and pulled the trigger. At the same time he placed his right foot on
Carl’s chest and shoved him over backwards so that the splattering brains
wouldn’t splash on his suit. Carl hit
the floor with a meaty crash.
The gray-eyed man returned to his
desk, still whistling “Spanish Harlem” when the door Morgan had used the leave
the room exploded inwards in a blizzard of wooden splinters from the impact of
two grown men slamming into it.
One of the men was Morgan and his
face was an awful sight. He’d been
worked over and worked over good by the other man who delivered a final
devastating roundhouse that corkscrewed Morgan completely around twice before
he hit the floor out cold. The gray eyed
man brought his Glock up but before he could get off a shot the other man
smoothly drew a Jericho 941 from a
cross draw holster on his left hip and trained it on him.
“You have me at a disadvantage,
sir. To whom do I have the pleasure of
entertaining?” The gray-eyed man’s voice
was just as cultured and calm if they were discussing which opera to attend
that evening.
“I know who you are, right enough,”
the other man answered “Professor Alonzo Sunjoy. You hold so many degrees in the fields of
Molecular Biology, Quantum Chemistry and Plasma Physics it makes my head hurt
just to think of them. You could have
distinguished yourself in the world as a brilliant scientist. Instead you became a brain for hire, using
your genius to think up new and more efficient ways to kill people instead of
helping them.”
“I still have no idea of who you
are, sir.”
“The name is Dillon.”
Professor Sunjoy’s eyes opened
wider. “Well, this is a surprise! I’ve heard of you, naturally. Who in our profession has not? I never dreamed our paths would cross under
these circumstances.” Sunjoy talked
pleasantly and smiled even more pleasantly.
When he and Morgan didn’t show up at the boat Johnny would
investigate. All Professor Sunjoy had to
do was keep Dillon talking until-
“Your other man isn’t coming to
help you. He’s at the top of the
staircase enjoying the asskicking I gave him.
It’s over, Sunjoy. Ten, fifteen
minutes more or so and you’ll be in the hands of Interpol and A.C.E.S.”
“Ah. That would be the Advanced Counter Espionage
Syndicate, I take it?”
And now there was a smile spreading
across Dillon’s face as well. “They’ve been
after you for the past three years, Professor Sunjoy. They thought I was spinning them a yarn when
I approached them and offered my help to track you down but they changed their
mind after they saw how I spent the past nine days dismantling your operation
here in Madrid.”
For the first time there was alarm
in Professor Sunjoy’s eyes as he leaned forward. “And just exactly what do you mean by that,
sir?”
“I mean that your plan to destroy
The Vega/Murietta Protectorate isn’t going to happen. The conference is going ahead as scheduled
and even as we speak A.C.E.S. has dismantled the nerve gas canisters and is
rounding up your people.”
Sunjoy’s eyes narrowed with
anger. “Morgan just reported to me. He said that everything was progressing
according to schedule.”
“Don’t be too hard on your
boy. As far as he knew, everything was
going according to plan. It took a
little more effort and time and effort to keep him convinced that everything
was cool but it was worth it.” Dillon’s
grin was now that of a shark who’s tasted blood in the water. “It was worth it because I got YOU.”
“We’re never crossed paths
before. Why do you interfere in my
affairs?”
“Think back. Eight months ago. On your orders a man named Randolph Ryan was
killed right in his house in Mexico. He was taking a bath and somebody pumped five
bullets into him. I’m guessing it was
your man Morgan.”
Sunjoy waved a hand dismissively. “Ryan had done some work for me, but he didn’t
know it. Through him I was able to
secure several items I needed to transport the canisters of nerve gas
safely. Once his purpose had been served
I had no more use for him. I couldn’t take the chance he might talk.”
“Randolph Ryan wouldn’t have talked
if his wife and kids were having their throats slit right in front of him. I know because he was my man and in
the seven years we did business he never once sold me out.”
“Then if he was your man then why
was he taking jobs on the side?”
Dillon shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do know a few things: I know that Randolph
would never have taken a dime from you if he had known what you were
planning. And I know that you didn’t
have to kill him.”
“You mean to stand there and tell
me that you dismantled an operation it took me ten months to plan and organize
simply because I killed a man?”
“Oh, c’mon, Sunjoy. You know how this works. The word gets around you killed one of my
people and I did nothing about it and pretty soon I have no people at
all. The fact that you were planning on
gassing eight thousand innocent people to death and I prevented it is a bonus.”
Sunjoy’s voice lowered as he fought
to control the boiling rage inside of him as he said; “You have no idea what
you’ve done. The people I’m working for
will withdraw the considerable sum of money they’re paying me and send their
dogs to hunt me down and kill me for not fulfilling my end of the bargain.”
“And what part of that concerns
me?” Dillon asked. “I should just blow your brains out and walk
away happy. But that wouldn’t be enough. You need to be put away, Professor Sunjoy. Studied like a lab rat for the next fifty
years. Maybe somebody can take that
brain of yours apart and figure out where freaks like you come from and how we
can keep any more like you from happening.”
Dillon’s grin increased. “However,
if that doesn’t happen, I can think of other solutions.”
“This is absolutely
intolerable. I cannot have this
operation disrupted. I was counting on
the funds I was receiving for this operation to finance other projects I have
planned.”
“You’re boring me, Sunjoy.” Dillon’s eyes under severe eyebrows were not
their usual sparkling copper color. They
had darkened to a moody molten gold.
“The good guys are on their way so we’re just going to stand here
pointing our guns at each other and pass the time in pleasant discussion until
they come with that funny white tuxedo that ties in the back to take you away
to the ha-hacienda where you can spend the rest of your days playing Parcheesi
with the rest of the Napoleons. Doesn’t
that sound like fun?”
Professor Sunjoy carefully took a
step to his left, his gun still trained on Dillon. “100 million dollars.”
Dillon didn’t bat an eye as he took
a matching step to his left. “Beg
pardon?”
“I’m prepared to give you 100
million dollars for my safe passage out of Spain.” Sunjoy risked taking another step to the
left.
Dillon extended the gun in his hand
forward slightly. “You take one more
step and you’ll be going to the booby hatch minus a leg.”
“You would actually turn down such
a princely sum of money?”
“I’m not exactly poor myself, Sunjoy. I’ve got money of my own and in any case, I
wouldn’t take yours.”
Professor Sunjoy’s eyes radiated
quiet hatred. “I assure you that I am
not a man that you would want to have as an enemy. Let me make arraignments to take care of Mr.
Ryan’s family in recompense for my error.
Shall we say four million dollars a year for the next six years? Would that be satisfactory?”
“I’ll take care of Randolph’s
family, Sunjoy. They’re not your
concern. They’re mine. Just as he was mine and you had no business
getting him involved in your filth.”
Professor Sunjoy was growing
visibly agitated. “I cannot afford to be
captured, Dillon. My enemies are
numerous and once they know where to find me they will have me killed.”
“You’ll have to give me a minute
while I switch on the part of my brain that gives a damn.” Dillon grinned immensely as if he were having
the time of his life. “I’d heard a lot
about what such a cool customer you are but I do believe you’re beginning to
sweat razor blades, Sunjoy.”
“Name your own price for my
release, then!”
“Stop begging. It’s undignified.”
Dimly, the two men could hear faint
gunshots and yells. Dillon cocked his
head to listen better. “Looks like my
backup has arrived. Now you just relax
and take it easy and it’ll be all over very-“
Sunjoy suddenly moved with an easy
grace that took Dillon by surprise. He
hadn’t expected Sunjoy to be able to move quite that fast. Dillon snapped off a shot that punched
through the chair behind where Professor Sunjoy had been standing, leaving a
hole big enough for a man to comfortably put a fist through and at the same
time he flung himself to the right as Professor Sunjoy sent three shots his
way.
Dillon rolled, got under the table
with the computers and used his right shoulder to send it toppling over. The computers hit the polished Brazilian teak
floor with an impressive cascade of sparks.
Two more shots from Professor Sunjoy’s Glock thudded into the table but
Dillon was as safe as if he were behind armor plating so thick was it.
He popped up and fired twice, the
bullets whining dangerously past Sunjoy’s head as he dived behind his
desk. The room suddenly went dark. Sunjoy cut all illumination within and
without and Dillon couldn’t see anything but utter blackness. He cursed himself. He had been having too good a time watching Sunjoy
suffer and this was the price he was paying for being careless. If his time pursuing Professor Sunjoy should
have taught him anything it was that he was not a man to get careless with.
However, the advantage was still
his. Sunjoy would have to make a move
soon if he wanted to get away and once he did so, Dillon would be on him like
dots on dice. He could hear the yells,
curses and shots getting closer.
Interpol and A.C.E.S. sounded as if they were making quick work of the
thirty men Professor Sunjoy had guarding this hideout. Professor Sunjoy was going to have to make a
move soon-
-the room suddenly flooded with
light as a secret door in the floor behind the desk opened and Professor Sunjoy
dived into the hole. Dillon followed
after, pumping two shots before him. But
Professor Sunjoy was gone, moving with that uncanny speed he slid down the
short aluminum ladder, whipped around and took off like an Olympic sprinter
down an escape tunnel. Dillon climbed
down the ladder and found himself in a tunnel barely big enough to accommodate
his six foot four frame. He could see Sunjoy
up ahead of him, running flat out.
Dillon pursued. He didn’t want to
kill Sunjoy if he could help it. He had
promised Randolph’s wife while standing over his grave at her side that he’d
see to it that her husband’s killer was taken alive and if at all possible he
intended to honor that promise.
Dillon came to a sharp corner and
slowed up. Surely Sunjoy would be
waiting right around that corner with his gun ready to blast Dillon as soon as
Dillon showed himself. Dillon dropped a
hand down to the Steranko belt he wore with the stylized, raised letter ‘D’ on
the oval bronze belt buckle. The
Steranko belt had numerous snap shut pouches filled with devices that Dillon
often found useful in his work. The
device he used now was among the simplest but had saved his life on more than
on occasion: a small round mirror barely an inch wide set on a 45 degree angle
on the end of a telescoping metal wand that he used to look around the corner.
Sunjoy stood at the far end of the tunnel, a
Russian RPG-7 in his hands. And now he
was the one grinning. Dillon turned and
ran back the way he came just as Professor Sunjoy fired.
The rocket hit the wall and the
following explosion echoed like uncaged thunder as the ceiling collapsed, the
roaring of the shattering stone loud in Dillon’s ears as he scrambled up the
ladder and back into Professor Sunjoy’s office, kicking the hatch shut.
He waved his arms to disperse
the cloud of dust surging up through the cracks and turned around to find more
than a dozen automatic weapons pointed at him.
He slowly raised his hands saying; “Hey, fellas...I’m on your side.”
“Dammit, Dillon! Where’s Sunjoy?” The statuesque, well-built woman in combat
fatigues looked mad enough to shoot Dillon herself. Thick wavy platinum gray hair had been tied
into an economic ponytail that wouldn’t get in the way. She wasn’t a young girl but even in tiger
stripe camouflage fatigues it was obvious she had an hourglass figure
professional fashion models would kill their own mothers for. She pushed her way in front of her soldiers
who still kept Dillon covered. “I
violated a dozen protocols to give you your shot at Sunjoy because you swore
you’d deliver him! Now where is he?”
“Look, Hartless-“
“That’s Captain Hartless to you,
mister! And if you don’t produce Sunjoy
in a goddamn hurry I’m going to give you to Interpol as a consolation
prize!”
Dillon had worked with Captain Edna
Hartless only a few weeks now. But that
was enough for him to know that the fiery Chief of Field Operations for
A.C.E.S. meant what she said.
“He got away down a secret
underground tunnel. But I can still
catch him. I know where he’s going.”
“And I suppose you expect me to let
you go after him?”
“What have you got to lose at this
point? Either I get him or I don’t. If he gets away from us now he’ll hide so
well we’ll never find him.”
“Go. But I’m sending this squad with you as
backup.”
“If they can keep up with me,
swell.” Dillon ran from the room and
bounded up the stone staircase to the outside.
Bodies were either lying in the street or draped over the hoods of
parked cars. The gunfire he heard was Professor
Sunjoy’s men putting up a fierce last fight.
The squad of A.C.E.S troops was right behind Dillon as he sprinted over
to the paved street and looked toward the docks crowded together like commuters
in a New York City
subway car. Dillon saw Professor Sunjoy
emerge from a hidden exit in a seemingly abandoned building and sprint towards
the docks.
Dillon turned around and pushed
past the bewildered squad to where one of their transport trucks waited, idling
quietly. Dillon climbed into the back,
hoping that they had brought his bike like he asked. They had.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he climbed on board the modified BMW
R1200 and cranked it into booming life.
Dillon drove it right out of the back of the truck, the soldiers cursing
and yelling as they ducked down out of the way, the motorcycle sailing over
their heads. The bike hit the ground,
both wheels sending gravel flying. The
rear wheel fishtailed briefly before Dillon got the bike under control and took
off down the road.
Professor Sunjoy had a powerfully
fast hydrofoil waiting and Dillon could hear the finely tuned Naegler-Schaul
engines turning over. Dillon increased
the speed of the motorcycle with one hand while the other hand dropped toward
one of the two leather saddlebags on the back of the bike. With practiced ease, Dillon unbuckled the
right saddlebag and reached inside. He
knew where everything in the bag was and he could find it by touch alone.
He continued down the road, keeping
his eye fixed on Sunjoy’s hydrofoil as it slowly pulled away from the dock. Sunjoy stood in the cabin and he threw a look
over his shoulder. His face was calm,
dispassionate and serene. But his eyes
glared murderous hate.
Dillon withdrew a large black
pistol with a muzzle shaped somewhat like a showerhead with a small winch on
the back of the gun. The gun didn’t
shoot a bullet. It shot a piton attached
to a length of nylon cord. He aimed it
at the stern of the boat and squeezed the trigger. With a burst of compressed gas, the piton
sped, covering the distance between Dillon and the hydrofoil and the piton
slammed home.
Dillon held on firmly with both
hands as he was yanked from the seat of his motorcycle and sailed through the
air, off the docks and smashed into the water.
The shock of hitting the water was minimal as he was expecting the
impact and prepared for it. He held onto
the piton gun with both hands and kicked his way to the surface. His head cleared the churning foam wake and
he blinked water out of his eyes, clicked the switch that activated the
winch. Slowly, steadily he was pulled
closer to the boat.
The hydrofoil rose out of the
water. Dillon recognized it as a German
made hydrofoil, very fast. It could get
up to 50 knots and once Professor Sunjoy got it into open water and let her
loose he’d be even harder to catch.
Where in the hell were the gunships Dillon had requested? Dillon climbed onto one of the struts and
caught his breath. He looked back toward
the shore. He could make out several
speedboats being launched but it was too little too late. They’d never catch the hydrofoil. Dillon climbed up to the deck, water sheeting
over him as he did so.
Sunjoy stood at the wheel, his back
to Dillon who clambered over the side and landed on the deck with a thud! that
was louder than he would have liked but apparently Sunjoy hadn’t heard. Dillon wiped water from his eyes and crept
closer. Sunjoy had a headset on and
spoke rapidly into the microphone. So he
was distracted. Good. This would make it easier.
A Scorpion Attack Helicopter
swooped in from the east and came in low over the hydrofoil and hovered over it
while the loudspeakers blared; “Cut your engines, Sunjoy! Cut your engines immediately or we will open
fire!”
Sunjoy responded by quickly locking
the wheel into position and leaping from the controls onto the main deck. In his hand was a M79 grenade launcher which
he fired at the Scorpion, a wicked grin on his face.
Dillon leaped to the attack but he
was too late. The grenade hit the canopy
of the Scorpion and exploded. The glass
was armored but even so, the grenade was at such close range it shattered the
inch thick glass into flying razors of death that hit the pilot and co-pilot
right in their faces. The Scorpion
skewed wildly out of control.
Sunjoy swung the grenade launcher
at Dillon’s head. He ducked and blasted
in a sizzling straight punch that caught Professor Sunjoy in the
mid-section. Professor Sunjoy doubled
over, the weapon flying from his hand.
He stumbled backwards and Dillon waded in, throwing brutal punches:
left, right, left, right that snapped Professor Sunjoy’s head back and forth.
The Scorpion plummeted toward the
water, barely missing the hydrofoil. The
turbulence kicked up by the blades rocked the hydrofoil and knocked both Dillon
and Professor Sunjoy off their feet.
Dillon rolled, painfully smashing into a storage locker.
Professor Sunjoy got to his feet
first and drove a knee into Dillon’s chest.
Dillon let out a ragged squawk.
And then Sunjoy was battering him with bony fists that felt like maces
as they descended on his face and shoulders.
And Sunjoy spoke in a voice of utter calm that was incongruous with the
rage on his face. “You stinking gutter waste. You have no idea what it is that you’ve
done. But you’ve interfered in the
affairs of your betters for the last time I assure you of-AWK!”
Sunjoy was cut off as Dillon’s booted left foot came up and around and slammed
into the side of his head, throwing him across the tilting deck.
Dillon surged to his feet and
leaped across the deck. Sunjoy fumbled
inside his suit jacket for something and Dillon landed on him like an offensive
tackle of doom, pinning his arms.
Dillon’s hot golden eyes burned with molten fury as he looked into Sunjoy’s
pewter gray ones. “So you think that
just because you have a few more brain cells than most of humanity that somehow
makes you better than them? That it makes you fit to decide that you judge who
gets to live and who doesn’t? Where do
things like you come from?”
Sunjoy roared and tried to break
free. There was something in his hand
and as Dillon was thrown off of him he heard it go pop! The two men lay on their backs and watched in
horror as the grenade bounced wildly on the deck between them, the pin in Sunjoy’s
hand.
Dillon scrambled to his feet and
dived overboard, the hydrofoil speeding away as he hit the water and with
powerful strokes went deeper to get away from the blast. The shock of the hydrofoil exploding thrummed
through the churning waters. Dillon
angled back upwards and broke the surface, wiping water from his face.
About a hundred yards distant, the
flaming wreckage of the hydrofoil slowed to a stop. The entire deck was ablaze and Dillon
wondered if Professor Sunjoy had time to jump over the side as he had. The hydrofoil exploded again as the flames
reached the fuel lines and something hit Dillon on the side of his head with
enough impact to knock him out. He
slipped underwater, slowly dropping into the blackness below him…
Dillon’s eyes slowly opened
to look up at a white ceiling. The
antiseptic smell of the room told him he was in an infirmary or a hospital
somewhere. He sat up, feeling the side
of his head gingerly. It felt sore and
tender. Somebody who knew what they were
doing had been working on it. The wound
had been cleaned. He sniffed his
fingers. Some kind of antiseptic
ointment had been applied to the wound.
He sat on a bed in a small examination room. He had been undressed and was garbed on one
of those terribly embarrassing hospital gowns with the back out. He carefully climbed off the bed, eager to
find out where he was and more importantly, if Professor Sunjoy been caught.
The door opened and Captain Edna
Hartless walked in, Dillon’s clothes in her arms. “Thought you’d be out for the rest of the
day, man,” she grunted, handing over his clothes. “That was some knock to the head you took.”
“What hit me?”
“Debris from Sunjoy’s boat blowing
up. We had a bunch of boats in the water and a couple of my men saw you get hit
and go under. They dived in and pulled
you out. The doctor that worked on you
said you’ve got the hardest head he’s ever seen.” Edna Hartless pointed at a metal cabinet next
to the bed. “Your gun and the rest of
your gear are in there. I left them in
there while I had your clothes dried.”
“Mighty nice of you, Hartless.”
“Captain Hartless. And I don’t know what you’re so smug about,
you son of a bitch. You’re gonna get my
ass fired.”
“Don’t tell me Sunjoy got
away?” Dillon shucked the gown and stood
there naked. Edna Hartless didn’t look
away and indeed, sized him up with what appeared to be indifferent disdain. But she was feeling a familiar warmth in
places she hadn’t felt warmth for some time now. She put her mind back on business and
continued.
“What I’m about to tell you is only
known to me and my men: after we dragged you out of the water I sent divers
down to look for Sunjoy’s remains while I assigned others to do a sweep of the
shoreline. We found a single bloody
handprint on a dock and bloody footprints leading from the dock to the street. The footprints abruptly ended after about ten
feet.”
Dillon slipped into his short-sleeved
khaki T- shirt. “You trying to tell me
that Sunjoy survived?”
“You did.”
“Yeah, but I’m special.” Dillon buckled up his black jeans and went
over to the cabinet and took out his Steranko belt, holster and gun and his
leather jacket. He checked his belt and
gun. “So where does that leave you?”
“I could hand you over to Interpol
and let you take the blame for this whole mess.
Dammit, Dillon-“
He held up a hand. “Look, Hartless. I had just as much reason to get Sunjoy as
you did. Maybe more. I’m not proud of the fact that I let him get
away. That means that he’ll come back
one day. I’m not fond of looking over my
shoulder. And what good would handing me
over to Interpol do anyway?” Dillon’s
flashed her his Cheshire Cat grin.
“Assuming that I would let you hand me over to them in the first
place. And let’s say I did. That means I’d have to waste a day escaping
from them.”
“Which is why I’m going to make you
a deal.”
“I’m listening.”
“As far as anybody here knows, you
and Sunjoy both blew up on that boat. My
men are sworn to secrecy. My report will
state that both you and Professor Sunjoy were on the hydrofoil when it
exploded.”
“They’ll ask why you didn’t search
for bodies.”
“I did. I didn’t find any.”
“They’re not going to buy that.”
“The way I sell it they will. You are going to get gone.” Edna Hartless walked closer and poked a
finger in Dillon’s muscular chest. “But
from now on, Professor Sunjoy is your responsibility. You get a line on him you drop what you’re
doing and check it out. And when you
find him you give me a call.”
“You’re still going to be in a lot
of hot water when I turn up alive.”
“Yeah, but that won’t be for a
while and when you do I’ll tell my bosses that it would be best for all
concerned if we didn’t make a big noise about it. After all, if you’re alive then that means
that Sunjoy might be alive as well. And
nobody wants that.”
Dillon slipped his arms into his
leather jacket. “You really think that Sunjoy
is going to re-surface after all this?
Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to hide out in some remote corner of
the world? He as much as told me that
there was going to be some pretty pissed off people looking for him once his
plan didn’t come off.”
“Sunjoy may lay low for a while to heal
up but he’s going to show up one day.
Sooner or later. And don’t forget
that’s he’s got a real big bone to pick with you.”
“I hate to say it but you’re
right.” Dillon impulsively leaned
forward and kissed Edna on the lips.
“It’s been fun, Hartless.
Seeya.” He headed for the door.
Edna licked her tingling lips
before saying; “You’re bike’s at the rear of the hospital. One of my men is watching it. And yeah…it was kinda fun….”
Dillon winked at her just before
going out the door. He didn’t have much
trouble finding the staircase and walking downstairs to the ground level. By the looks of the place it was a small
private hospital and once he got outside he saw it was located on the outskirts
of Madrid. One of Edna’s men saluted and gestured to
where Dillon’s bike stood, slightly dinged up and scraped where it had fallen
over but it was okay. He climbed on
board and started it up.
As flippant as he tried to be
when speaking with Edna, Dillon knew she was right about one thing: Professor Alonzo
Sunjoy would return. And Dillon would be
ready for him when he did.
But for now he was going to find
himself a restaurant and have an excellent meal. Then he was going to find a club where the
music was hot and the women had eyes full of passionate promise.
Dillon roared off down the road
into the growing dusk and was soon lost to sight.
